Budget Zero
Debjit has just called.
It is a season of Size Zero. Kareena made it happen for India. A country where ‘size’ does matter. And these days, it’s size zero. There I was sitting in the bruised blue couch. Half cozy. Half stained. I was thinking if I should go back to what worked best for me. Telling the ugly adolescent what to do. When to cut the t’s. Where to dot the i’s. How to spell ‘influenza’. People thought I was a good teacher. I could wear a fluorescent green shirt with a sticky navy blue pair of cotton trousers. And I could still pose grave when the podium was under my custody. And they paid well too. I got paid fat to stay in a country which is known for selling honeymoon to the world. Maldives. Yeah, life was coral white. Until I stumbled upon life. I realized that life was happening back home. Home is the rabbit that took me out of its hat. I decided to come home.
Debjit has an interesting name. I call him DebOjit. I believe that ‘O’ sits like a screw between Deb and Jit. I believe it’s the same screw that’s been missing from his skull.
“How To Get From Where You Are To Where You Want To Be”. Jack Canfield. This pathetic book changed my life. This miserable piece of ink and paper asked a question. One life. One chance. Am I doing what I love to do? Funnily enough, life doesn’t come with ‘ctrl+Z’. Supposedly, you cannot undo in life. I was stupid enough to believe that some moving images would make me the happiest. I decided to make films. Well, it sounded huge. Extremely romantic. And incredibly improbable. Almost two years after coming back home, I was sitting idle with two feature length scripts strangled in spirals. Nothing happened. Strangely enough, nobody was interested in spending a crore to make my dream come true. Just imagine the level of selfishness we have brought to this modern world. I hardly went to any producer either. I just emailed them with my idea. It will still take a few more months before Kolkata becomes Hollywood. And then it’d be another story of a champion. Goddamn it, I did not even have a struggle to boast of.
I’m talking to Debjit now. For some strange reasons, this fellow seems to be desperate to make it happen for me. He compensates his inches with his pounds. This guy is nuts. He is talking about something called “Zero Budget”. “Dada, why don’t you write a zero budget script? The other scripts of yours can never be made in zero budget, can they?” he confirmed, “Why don’t you write such a script that can be made with whatever camera we have. With the actors we know. To be shot in a place that belongs to us.” He sounded as emphatic as ever, “We have to make our own film, haven’t we?” There is something about Debjit. He puts his hot cup of coffee on my baby cheek to interrupt my slumber. I told him I had an idea. I wonder if I could fill my purse with ideas. If shopping malls started accepting ideas instead of plastic money. I’d never have to be bankrupt again.
“Here it goes. A guy is heartbroken. He’s locked himself in his room. Now he’s checking his mobile. He’s checking the numbers. The age old contacts he never called before. He starts calling the girls. And one by one, stories evolve.” I guess it was half stolen from an Asian movie. Debjit liked it. Later, I came to know that it was his favourite movie too. I asked for a few days from him. He sounded excited. But then he always sounds so, doesn’t he? As if it’s his job to motivate a lazy bum like me.
I hung up.
I opened my Final Draft. And the first thing I decided was not to work on the story that had just impressed Debjit.
#Debjit: Debjit Bagchi, Executive Producer – Naseman
